


these keys unlock more than their doors

by ArtsyAfrodite



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bipolar Ian, Boyfriends, Caretaking, Domestic Mickey Milkovich, Extended Family, Family, Gallavich, Gen, I don't know what else to tag this as, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-27 08:21:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2685836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtsyAfrodite/pseuds/ArtsyAfrodite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey looks even more shocked.  He’s never ‘deserved’ anything a day in his life, at least that’s what he was always conditioned to tell himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	these keys unlock more than their doors

**Author's Note:**

> This is for shameless-us-addict. :)

He needed home after the hospital, Mickey knows that.  He has to – _needs_ to.

As much as he wants Ian back at the Milkovich house with him, he’s forfeited nights as the smaller spoon while he convinces himself he doesn’t need his breath on the back of his neck to fall asleep.  He manages, only having the imprint of his long limbs in the sheets next to him where he would lay night after night.  It’s cold there now, but he’s _dealing_.  Nothing could sting more than the words Ian said three weeks after he’d been back from the hospital anyway, his voice shaky and unsure, things not quite fusing back together as quickly or as easily as Mickey had hoped. 

Those broken pieces Ian left with came right back with him with prescribed glue the Doctor’s hadn’t warned him would take some time to dry.

 

_“Smile enough?”  Ian forced a chuckle through his statement.  It was sarcasm, Mickey knew, because the expression on his face was nothing but a smile flipped upside down.  He wasn’t feeling this, and neither was Ian despite his efforts to seem that way._

_Three weeks.  Three weeks already, and Ian seemed to be right back in the rut he was in before leaving.  He was getting better sure, but every time he managed to pull himself together and stitch himself where the rifts forced open, the seams would burst again.  Mickey punched the walls, cursing and screaming in private whenever Ian managed to get out of the house with Mandy or Fiona.  He didn’t want him to hear or see him, and the frustration.  But somehow, when his boyfriend would return the echoes of his cries were still vibrating loudly in the walls, the pain resounding on his face._

_Ian could always tap into even his residual energy, they were so connected._

_“You’re upset,” Ian responded after hearing nothing but heavy breathing leave Mickey’s chest.  He was sat on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped and his eyes focused on the cracks in the hardwood floor.  Such a mockery._

_“What do you need?” Mickey finally spoke.  He turned slowly to face Ian, whose face was initially twisted with confusion before melting into a hurt, knowing stare._

_“I need you.”_

_“What do you need Ian?” Mickey asked again.  It was a given Ian needed him and vice versa, but the constant up-downs of his moods and the silent crying he did while he thought Mickey was asleep told him otherwise.  He was no fool when it came to Ian.  Mickey knew._

_Silence loomed for a few minutes before Ian spoke, his words hitting Mickey harder than he had prepared for.  “Home,” Ian said silently, casting his eyes downward.  By ‘home’ Mickey knew he meant back to the Gallagher house.  By ‘home’ Mickey inwardly admitted it meant his family.  “But only for a little while, until I can get a handle on this,” Ian assured him._

_“Mhm,” Mickey murmured, self-admitting the hurt he was currently feeling._

_“But my true home will always be with you,” Ian offered, “and you’re my family too.”_

_“I know,” Mickey said as he stood.  But somehow he didn’t.  He’d love Ian and be with him no matter what, but it was beginning to dawn on Mickey that things would never be the same.  He couldn’t help but wonder what he’d do without the simple sound of Ian breathing – something he found he based his own next breath on.  “Let’s get you home,” he said, offering Ian the best reassuring smile he possibly could._

So as he looks around, Mickey finds himself back in a space that’s not his, but feels like his, because he’s here so often now.  He’s humbled himself all the way down to being horrendously domestic, cooking breakfast for Ian, and now the rest of the Gallaghers almost every morning in their kitchen.  He doesn’t spend the night with Ian during the week, as they agreed to give each other the space they both needed, although not wanting to take it.  He only stays on the weekends, comes in the mornings during the week, leaves for the Rub ‘N Tug, comes back with Ian’s prescriptions when he needs them, and stays until late.

This has been the cycle for over a month now.

As he flips the last pancake, there’s a shuffling of feet coming down the steps towards the kitchen.  “Fuck!  You again?” an annoyed voice says as the irate person enters, “You scared the shit outta me.”  Mickey doesn’t have to look up to see its Lip, his pretty-much brother-in-law, and least favorite person after Terry.

“Not my fuckin’ problem you scare easy princess,” Mickey huffs as he zips by Lip with two plates of pancakes.  He places them on the table and turns to meet that smug look he sports so well.

“Yeah well, maybe if you weren’t like a fucking ninja in here all the time, all stealth and somehow breaking into our house,” Lip says as he forks three pancakes onto a plate.  “Although the service is superb, I must say.  We’ve got ourselves our very own short-order cook.  No pun intended.”

If it weren’t for Ian, Mickey would’ve knocked Lip’s teeth out months ago.  “One, fuck you, two, I didn’t break in, three, I ain’t no short-order cook, and four, fuck you…again.”  Mickey throws up his middle finger from behind the stove.

“Sorry… _Ian’s_ short-order cook,” Lip says sarcastically.  “I know you don’t have a key, Fiona wouldn’t be that simple and Ian knows better.  So how’d you get in here?  How do you _always_ get in here so early?”

“I let him in,” Debbie says as she enters the kitchen, earning a frown from her brother.

“I didn’t hear anyone knock or ring the bell,” Lip counters, refusing to let this go.

“He has my number,” Debbie responds as she makes her way over to the table.  “Although, I did actually catch him picking the lock one morning, so I gave him my number.  I told Mickey whenever he needs to get in to just call or text me.  So there, you’re mystery is solved.”

Lip smirks at Mickey, feeling a small sense of gratification after learning he did break in there at one point or another.  Mickey picks up on this and simply throws up another middle finger in response just as Fiona and Ian make their way into the kitchen.  “But why not just call Ian to let you in?”  This earns him a glare from his brother.  “Oh, riiiight, you need your beauty rest.  No one wants to disturb you while you’re asleep.”  Lip is being an asshole right about now, because it’s well known how groggy Ian’s meds can make him.  Waking him up never pans out well.  Ian simply dismisses his older brother and gives Mickey a begging look to let it go.

He does – for now.

“Morning Mick,” Ian says as he wraps his arms around Mickey’s waist from behind.  It makes him uncomfortable every time he does it, the outward show of affection still foreign to him.  But Ian doesn’t care – he makes it his business to do it anyway.

Lip rolls his eyes, which Fiona catches and shoves the back of his head.  “Not surprised to see you here already,” she says as she greets Mickey with a pat on his shoulder.  She surveys the work done around him, sausage already cooked on a plate.  “Jesus Mickey, you really don’t have to do this every morning.  I can cook sometimes,” Fiona smiles as she places her hands on her hips.  It still gets her every time she realizes a Milkovich is willingly cooking them breakfast.

“Yeah well, his man’s gotta eat to stay balanced and all that shit,” Lip blurts out.  “We’re all just reaping the benefits.  If Ian wasn’t here, it would be very man for himself so don’t get too comfy.”

“Shut up, will ya?” Ian bites as he jabs Lip in his arm.

“Right, everyone use me as a punching bag this morning for being honest,” Lip huffs as continues to eat pancakes.

“Mickey!  Mickey!” Liam shouts as he rushes Mickey and wraps his tiny arms around his legs.  Over the past month, not only has the kid grown close to Yevgeny from Ian taking them everywhere together, but he’s somehow grown fond of Mickey, despite how obvious it is he’s still uncomfortable with the whole kids thing.  Yet, he scoops the little guy up and rubs the top of his head as he beams at Mickey like he’s the best thing in the world – a look reminiscent of Ian’s.

Carl trudges into the kitchen finally, last as usual; sleep still heavy on his eyelids as he once again snuck back in the house late last night.  “Sup man,” he greets as him and Mickey give each other this weird pound.  “I’m fucking starving,” he says as his eyes widen at all the food.

“Language Carl,” Fiona tries her best to scold, knowing it will fail miserably.

Everyone is finally seated at the table as Mickey brings the plate of sausage over.  They eat in silence for a few minutes, before Debbie breaks the ice.  “So, uh, Fiona,” she says as she looks at her from across the table, “have you thought about what we’ve been discussing?”  This is obviously code talk between the two.  Fiona glances around at everyone nervously, but calms when she realizes no one has a clue what they’re talking about and are too preoccupied with stuffing their faces.

“Sure Debs,” she answers.

“And?” Debbie presses.

“Not now Debs,” Fiona says nervously, this time earning the attention of Ian and Lip who are watching her face adamantly.  “Tonight, at dinner, I promise.”

“What’s going on?” Ian finally asks, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Nothing Ian,” Fiona assures him, but she can already tell a seed has been planted.

“If it’s nothing, why not just answer Debs right here in front of everyone?” Ian asks.

“Because, it can be discussed tonight,” Fiona responds.

Ian’s frown deepens as his fingers clench tightly around his fork.  “Is it about me?  Am I too much of a hassle for everyone?” he asks, his voice serious.  Catching on quickly, Mickey grabs Ian’s knee underneath the table and squeezes gently.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Mickey says as he begins to rub his hand up and down Ian’s thigh out of view.  It doesn’t take much to get to him anymore, the combination of his meds never a guarantee every time the Doctor changes them.  Ian turns and stares his boyfriend in the eyes.  The blue seems to calms him.

“I’m sorry,” Ian says apologetically.  He turns and faces Fiona.  “I’m sorry Fi, didn’t mean to sound like I was attacking anybody.  It’s just – “

“Hey, it’s fine, ok?” Fiona cuts him off before the guilt burrows deeper.  “Look, it’s not bad, trust me,” she assures her brother as she smiles endearingly.   “Over dinner tonight, I promise it’ll all make sense.  Besides, I still haven’t gotten everything.”

Ian looks across the table at Debbie who offers him a wink.  “Well, I gotta get ready for school,” she says as she stands, giving Mickey a wide grin before heading upstairs.

“Yeah, I gotta head to class,” Lip says suspiciously as he eyes Fiona.  “I may or may not be back tonight.  Not sure if I’m staying on campus or not.”  Ian knows good and well Lip will be back.  He’s too nosey not to see what these mystery discussions between Fiona and Debbie will produce.

“I gotta get ready to head to the diner,” Fiona says as she also stands.  She eyes Carl, who’s demolished everything on his plate and is now dozing off at the table.  “Carl!” she yells, jolting him out of his sleep, “Upstairs to get ready for school, now.”  Carl groans, making his way up the stairs.  Fiona turns towards Mickey and Ian as she scoops up Liam.  “Not that I have to ask,” she says to Mickey, “but you’ll be here for dinner tonight?”

“Yeah,” Mickey responds, his hand still on Ian’s thigh without realizing.

“Great, see you both later.”

Fiona makes her way up the stairs with Liam, leaving Ian and Mickey in the kitchen alone.  Ian smiles at Mickey before sliding his hand over his boyfriend’s that’s still on his thigh.  This makes Mickey realize exactly where his hand has been all this time.  He quickly moves it and begins to fidget with the plates on the table, making sure to busy his hands to keep his mind off of how warm they feel from Ian’s touch.

“You can leave these, I’ll get them before I head to school,” Ian says as he stands.  He gently removes the plates out of Mickey’s hands, placing them on the table, before turning back towards him.  He catches him off guard when he pulls him in close by his waist and kisses his neck.  He feels Mickey tense up slightly.  “It’s nobody in here but us,” Ian assures him between kisses on his neck.  He knows being affectionate with his family so close by still makes Mickey nervous.

“I know, alright?” Mickey says as he pulls away slightly.  His face is flush and there’s a small smile on his lips.  “Don’t start some shit you can’t finish.”

“Who says I can’t finish?”  Ian tightens his grip around Mickey’s waist.

“I say,” Mickey says as he pulls away, his smile never wavering.  “I gotta get to the Rub ‘N Tug anyway.  Kev’s expecting me soon to talk new numbers or some shit.”

Ian sighs and releases his grip from around his boyfriend.  “Fine,” he acquiesces, “but later, after dinner and Fiona’s big announcement or whatever it is.”

“Yeah, later tease,” Mickey says as he makes his way towards the living room to put on his jacket.  Once again, Ian catches him off guard, spins him around and plants a kiss on his lips.

“You guys about to do each other or something?” Carl asks from midway the steps as he throws on his bag pack.

“No Carl,” Ian assures him.  Mickey’s face reddens as he backs away and heads for the door.

“What did I say about asking stupid fuckin’ questions all the time, huh?” Mickey asks, still walking towards the door.  Carl shrugs as he plummets down the remaining stairs, unfazed. 

Ian turns right before Mickey’s outside.  “See ya later Mick.”

“Yeah, see ya,” Mickey responds with a wave behind his head.  Ian walks to the door and smiles as he watches his boyfriend waltz briskly away.

///

“Jesus, how often can we eat spaghetti in this house?” Carl groans as he makes his way into the kitchen.  “We have this every week.”

“Eat it or starve,” Fiona barks as she stirs the sauce, Debbie by her side as she cuts the garlic bread.  Contesting no further, Carl walks heavy-footed to the table, practically throwing himself into one of the chairs next to Liam.

The back door swings open, Lip making his way inside.  “Smells good Fi,” he says as he places his messenger bag on the floor.  “Let me guess – spaghetti?”

“I said it to Carl, and now I’m saying it to you.  Eat it or starve,” she bites. 

“Whoa, don’t get your panties in a wad sis,” Lip throws up his hands in surrender.  “Just giving you a compliment,” he says sarcastically as he sits at the table.  He pulls out one of his textbooks first, opening it once he plants himself.

“What’s that?” Carl asks as he tilts his head to the side, trying to read the lettering on the spine of the textbook.

“Ancient Latin,” Lip responds as he flips the book open.  He looks at Carl as he furrows his eyebrows.  “Don’t think about it too hard,” Lip laughs, “don’t wanna give yourself a headache.”

A loud cackle travels down into the kitchen, followed by a stampede of footsteps coming down the kitchen steps.  A few seconds later, it’s Mickey followed by Ian, who’s still laughing about something.  Judging by the look on his face, Mickey couldn’t wait until after dinner, more than likely giving Ian a nice deep-throated preview to the show later.  Lip shudders at the thought before rolling his eyes and focusing them back into his textbook. 

Ian catches the look on his brother’s face.  “What’s _up_ Lip?” he asks, an evil grin on his face.  Lip glances up from his book and eyes Ian, before focusing on Mickey who raises a knowing brow.

“I don’t even wanna know,” Lip responds before re-absorbing himself in old Latin terminology – anything to keep his mind off of the graphic, mental picture of his younger brother getting a hummer from Mickey Milkovich.

Ian lets out a yelp just as Mickey pinches him on his side.  They’re being playful with each other, and this is something he rarely gets from Mickey in front of his family which makes it the best thing in the world right now.  He swats his hand away, only for it to be caught in a death grip.  Mickey snorts loudly when Ian leans down and acts as if he’s about to bite his hand, which makes him remove it quickly.

“Ok, ok you two,” Fiona laughs as her and Debbie bring the food to the table, “time to eat.”

The picture is a mirror image from the morning, the Gallaghers, plus one, all eating silently at the table.  Debbie looks up from her plate after a while and shoots Fiona a look before clearing her throat loudly.  Getting the hint, Fiona stands and removes herself from the table, earning a confused look from everyone else at the table.  Silence still looms as they all continue to eat slowly, their eyes fixed on the living room where Fiona’s fumbling around in her work bag for something.  After finding what she was looking for, she makes her way back into the kitchen, sits, and nonchalantly slides a box in front of Mickey.  It isn’t wrapped or anything, nevertheless, he looks down at it confused, like it’s a Christmas present.

“The hell is this?” Mickey asks, still looking down at the white, cardboard box. 

“Just a little present,” Fiona says as she eats her food as if nothing is going on.  “It was all Debs, her idea.”

Mickey looks up from the box across the table at Debbie who’s smiling with her chin in the palm of her hand.  “But it’s not my birthday or anything,” he finally says after considerable pause.

“Doesn’t have to be,” Fiona says as she looks over at him.  “You deserve it.”

Mickey looks even more shocked.  He’s never ‘deserved’ anything a day in his life, at least that’s what he was always conditioned to tell himself.  He still struggles with the thought that manages to strangle his mind sometimes that he doesn’t even deserve Ian.  “But – “

“Just open it already,” Debbie cuts him off.

Ian turns and faces Mickey who stares down at the box like a child for a few more moments before he manages to bring his hands up to the box.  It’s taped on the sides, so he peels the tape back slowly, and opens the box.  He doesn’t even have time to react because Ian beats him to it.  A startled breath escapes Ian’s mouth as he looks down into the box at two sets of freshly cut keys.  He then looks over at Fiona, a stunned look on his face.

“Fi, you didn’t have to – “

“I did,” she spoke over Ian, still focusing on her food. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Lip asks from across the table.  Leave it to him to ruin the moment.  “You know, I don’t exactly feel safe with this decision ladies,” he says as he looks back and forth between Fiona and Debbie.  “You’re giving a Milkovich keys to our house?  Without consulting anyone else who lives here?”

“It’s not about you Lip,” Fiona says, finally looking up from her plate.  “I think we all know it’s the best thing, not just for Ian, but for this family too.”

“Yeah, and he’s always here anyway,” Debbie chimes in.  “He also can get to Ian quicker than any of us if he needs to.  It only makes sense for him to have his own keys.  Plus I’m sick of opening the door for him when he’ll just pick the lock anyway.”

The back and forth continues between Lip, Fiona and Debbie for the next few minutes.  Meanwhile, Mickey’s still staring wide-eyed down at the keys in the box, one set to the back door and the other set to the front, both placed on bright blue lanyards.  He’s never been good with words, not knowing what to say.

“You sure about this?” Mickey finally asks, looking up from the box at Fiona.  He’s genuinely shocked, no one ever caring enough about him to give him anything, let alone a set of keys to their home.  She smiles endearingly at Mickey.

“As sure as Ian is about you,” she offers.  And Mickey knows that’s as sure as sure can get.  “C’mon, it’s fine.  You’re here all the time and you do so much for Ian.  When Debbie suggested it, although I was hesitant at first, it made sense.”

Mickey’s still shocked.  For the longest, he just knew Fiona couldn’t stand him and was severely annoyed whenever he would magically appear in their home.  “Thank you,” he manages to say, looking away and back at the keys.  Slowly, he takes them out and shoves them awkwardly into his pocket.  When he removes his hand, he feels Ian’s fingers curl tightly around his under the table.  He glances at his boyfriend, who says nothing, only smiles.  And in all honesty, Ian doesn’t need to say anything – his eyes say it all. 

It’s right then Mickey realizes through the way Ian’s eyes silently communicate, that these keys unlock more than their doors.

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this prompt on Tumblr by shameless-us-addict about Mickey receiving a set of keys from Fiona to the Gallagher house because he's always there. I loved the idea, and threw in a little bit of a hint to a Debbie/Mickey friendship as well. I also threw a little angst in there in the beginning (because you all know how I do lol). Not much else to say, except hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading. :)))
> 
> penprowess.tumblr.com


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